Alternative Law Journal
Let’s keep it anonymous. It’s safer that way. There are ominous new Codes of Conduct for employees and uncertain punishments for the unwary, not to mention a stifling, debilitating anti-intellectualism which lends an aura of quaint antiquarianism to free speech manifestos. It’s the Australian academy at the turn of the 21st century and it’s not safe to be out and about commenting on trends in higher education, let alone on pedagogical policies and practices in your own university. The Baboon is back with a vengeance, more determined than ever ‘to react against the most radical advances of modernity, and to return to the good old days of the University and the dogmas and values of right-thinking circles’. Beware the thought police at your local campus. It’s not a good time for left-thinking or, indeed, any remotely critical scholars in Australia, especially those employed in the less-established and consequently most threatened universities.
When it comes to legal education, the noose tightens. Governing bodies downtown ensure that new law programs are properly credentialled according to narrowly defined technicist criteria. Consequently, the prospects for a transformative vision of law are circumscribed from the outset. But what is far worse for those committed to critical legal education is the rapidity with which a new Australian law school can succumb to Council of Legal Education directives and to the intellectual restraints which are assumed to be imposed by economic rationalism. When university administrators presume that a commercially orientated law degree is universally desirable, almost no space is left for intellectual diversity in a ‘new’ law program. With academic freedom a low priority on the federal government’s tertiary sector agenda, dumbing down the law curriculum — by cutting innovative optional subjects or barring their inclusion — becomes a pastime enjoyed by management without fear of much internal protest or public exposure. In a climate where the space for claiming a right of reply is retracting insidiously, law teachers are trained, like their students, to be docile. At a time when staff meetings are threatened species and the threat of redundancies and codes of conduct loom threateningly over the disgruntled, few have the ‘audacity to champion the rights of singularity, of invention, of dissent’.
But some of us are brave. In her analysis of ‘technocentrism’ in the law school, Margaret Thornton refers explicitly to La Trobe University where she holds the foundational chair in Law and Legal Studies. In her account of current trends in legal education in western countries, the technocratic law school emerges as a key force, privileging technical reasoning and ‘unproblematic categories of finite technical knowledge’ over putatively ‘non-legal’ forms of knowledge, reducing social problems to doctrinal formulae, and, most crucially, adhering to a narrow, commercially orientated ‘core’ or compulsory legal curriculum which facilitates corporate capitalism. Its pedagogical practices produce docility or ‘moral neutering’ in law students by, for example, favouring examinations over research essays and the lecture format over seminars, and its ‘legocentric bias’ limits the space available for a reflexive or critical socio-legal orientation in the law program. According to Thornton, La Trobe University’s School of Law and Legal Studies displays all these technocentric traits. More bluntly, La Trobe administrators have ‘apparently decided that the School of Law and Legal Studies should shed its socio-legal distinctiveness and become a trade school’.
Leading socio-legal scholar Ian Duncanson has also been bravely, or recklessly, vocal about the waning of commitment to the nonvocational study of law in Australia and for him too, La Trobe University is exhibit A. In his tale of the demise of socio-legal studies in Australia, La Trobe, ‘once by far the largest institution dedicated to teaching research in law beyond scrutiny and outside the priorities of the legal professions’, has narrowed its sights to developing a vocational law degree. Now ‘philistinism’ — the conviction that ‘to be useful, knowledge must be closely related to some commercial activity’ is the governing ethic. Legal studies conceived ‘as a critical theoretical enterprise’ or as a local form of ‘critical, creative and curiosity-driven scholarship’ no longer has much of a future at a university where ‘corporately inspired vocationalism’ and ‘excessive technicality’ reign supreme.
While Thornton and Duncanson risk censure for speaking out, the new diasporic academics bound for greener pastures overseas have much less to lose by criticising the Australian academic status quo. Most vocal are the doyens of cultural studies who are heeding the call from far flung lands for critical scholars and leaving in droves. Pausing briefly before the exit doors, some lament the demise of a thriving academic sector downunder, declaring bluntly that: ‘You’d have to be crazy to take an academic job in Australia if you can work somewhere else’. Cutbacks, low wages, administrative overloads and ‘the prevailing management culture’ have created ‘the most depressing and abusive professional climate in the Western world’. A ‘punitive, contemptuous attitude to academic labour’ has ensured that ‘the atmosphere in many of our universities is worse than unrewarding. It has become repellent’. Leading cultural theorist Meaghan Morris is off to a post in Hong-Kong, but she hopes to return. All the things she cares about — ‘causes for anger included’ — are in Australia. But she cannot afford to be optimistic at a time when the federal government’s tertiary education policy can be described as ‘a beautiful system, if your aim is to free Australia from the burden of higher education in the 21st century’.
Shifting the focus back to law, the picture does not get any rosier, at least, not where I work. This article comments on some recent trends in legal education in Australia, drawing on my 15 years of experience teaching legal studies and, very briefly (after a two-year tussle with management), a law elective in an Australian university. Do I have to name the university? I’m still there, and besides, our new Code of Conduct sets unclear limits on public speech. On the one hand, staff must ‘maintain appropriate standards of conduct’ and also ‘maintain and enhance the reputation of the University’. On the other, the University is ‘committed to the principle that academic freedom is essential to the proper conduct of teaching, research and scholarship’. It’s good to learn that equity and access policies apply, and that all staff must work to ensure that the university is ‘free of harassment and discrimination’ (although that may not be how some of us experience life there). Moreover, staff are ‘encouraged to exercise their rights to intellectual freedom through contributions to public debate on matters relevant to their areas of specialist knowledge and expertise’. In the current reactionary political climate, it should probably come as a relief to learn that the university ‘places no constraint on the right of University staff freely to express opinions in their private capacities as members of society’. But what if my area of specialist knowledge and expertise is disqualified as ‘expertise’ by management, thereby disallowing my right to harassment-free working conditions, let alone any right to comment outside the private sphere?
The Code is unnerving. It leaves unclear what might be construed by management as a breach resulting in disciplinary action being taken. Silence would appear to be the better part of academic valour. So let’s just say that I work in one of those yellow-brick universities located in the outer suburbs of a large capital city, far away from the sand stone university epicentre of the brave new privatising world of Tertiary Education Inc. Two caveats before I begin. First, this is a not a vendetta. This article is not animated by a desire to single out the worst culprits, those who have been most active in dismantling the socio-legal tradition at the yellow-brick university. After all, what matter who’s policing; really, what matter who’s policing? Suffice it to say that the remarks assembled here anonymously from letters, memos and verbal communications typify the new management-speak of the technocratic university. Second, the Baboons can read this article as they will — as protected free-speech musings on crucially important matters relevant to my specialist area (critical legal and criminological studies) or as unauthorised criticism warranting disciplinary action. By the time this is published I should be out of their reach.
The yellow brick university could not have located its new law school at a more auspicious site — a Department of Legal Studies with an international reputation as a centre for socio-legal studies. For two decades, this department had prided itself on its law-in-context research and teaching orientation. It published its own refereed journal, aptly named Law in Context to underline its socio-legal orientation and some of its staff were key players in the establishment of national conferences committed to socio-legal scholarship, notably Law in History and Law and Society, which still thrive today. But, tragically, when a law degree was introduced in this department, things went awry from the start. The law program was set up in 1992 at the behest of management and against the opposition of critical legal studies teachers who favoured a more measured, fully consultative approach prioritising strategies to ensure that legal education at the yellow-brick university retained its socio-legal distinctiveness. The critical scholars lost. The new law school strove to model itself on the traditional doctrinal law program, seemingly unaware that the established, traditional universities were diversifying their curriculum, even to the point of employing feminist staff and including feminist and other critical perspectives in compulsory subjects. Worse was to come. The Department of Law and Legal Studies lost its home in the Faculty of Social Science, thereby losing the institutional foundation for its distinctive social science orientation. Against the opposition of critical legal studies staff, it was dumped with Business and Tourism into a new Faculty of Law and Management which has displayed little interest in, and indeed manifest hostility to, critical socio-legal research and teaching.
A random selection of indices mark the shift in focus away from critical legal education to a technocentric orientation at the yellow brick university. Law in Context, once a leading international journal in critical socio-legal studies, publishes a review article about correct citation practices in law journals. A report, commissioned by the Vice-Chancellor, proposes ‘exit packages’ for socio-legal scholars to make way for ‘professionally-orientated’ staff. Management attempts to police the research initiative of a critical socio-legal scholar by scrutinising her Large ARC Grant Application (but is blocked by privacy laws). Astute students pick up unsubtle changes in the University Handbook description of the School’s law program indicating that ‘corporatism and technocentrism have increasingly impacted on the development of legal knowledge’ at the yellow brick university. In 1995, the School’s aim was to take:
a socio-legal approach to law and legal relations. Its distinctive programme is based on recognising that, while the law has its own rules and procedures, they are not created and put into effect by legislators, adjudicators or judiciary acting in isolation. Rather, a realistic understanding of law must take account of its broader social context and the fact that institutions of law are themselves social relations and organisations.
Just five years later, the School’s Handbook entry tells us that the aim is to provide students with ‘an innovative legal education that combines technical excellence with the insights and methods needed to appreciate law’s place in society’. It had not taken long for law to lose its social context: the real, or at least, ‘a realistic understanding of law’, had become distinctly more technicist and less socio-legal in a very short time indeed.
There are other signs of retreat from socio-legal distinctiveness at the yellow brick university, but the reactionary, anti-critical legal studies manouevre I want to focus on here is the contraction of legal studies options or, more particularly, the attack on ‘my’ subjects within five years of the introduction of the law degree. I say ‘my’ subjects advisedly for ownership is not permitted under the new regime. All subjects are now ‘shells’ — any man and his dog can teach them. In the new post-critical world of technicist legal education, specialist knowledge has been abolished and distinctiveness, originality, flair is abhorred.
The reign of order, uniformity, ‘consensus’, the submission of every singularity to a common norm — such is the mission the thought police have assigned themselves.
The dismantling of socio-legal scholarship and pedagogy at the yellow brick university abounds with ironies and paradoxes. In May 1997, while I was on sabbatical in the United States, I received a fax from management informing me that my main teaching subject, Sex Violence and Crime (SVC), which attracts 150–180 students annually, had been renamed Crime and Society. I was also informed that its 2nd semester sequel, Sex, Crime and Law (SCL), averaging between 100–140 enrolments, had been abolished. A follow-up letter confirmed that ‘SVC and SCL are no longer a part of the School’s curriculum’. No cogent reasons for these curriculum changes were supplied. The rationale was simply that the School required a curriculum which ‘was not dependent on the presence or absence of particular individuals’ and which could be taught by ‘others qualified in the discipline’ — a problem, apparently, when it came to teaching in the area of sexed violence. Taking Sex and Violence out of Crime and substituting Society solved the problem. The curriculum also needed to cover ‘generally accepted areas of knowledge in the discipline’. Obviously, feminist theory had not attained the status of general acceptability at the yellow brick university. There was also a ‘need to have a balanced curriculum in the Legal Studies area for the BA degree’ and large student numbers in feminist legal studies subjects were clearly unbalancing. Moreover, if I thought ‘my’ subject area was being singled out for differential treatment or discrimination, it was pointed out that related areas such as Criminal Justice and Law and Psychology had also been reduced to single seminar subjects: all areas had been ‘treated alike’. Well, what can you say to that? Simply, that it was a bald-faced lie. While Sex, Crime and Law had been barred from the law program, the second-semester legal studies offerings in Criminal Justice and Crime and Psychology were converted to law electives. Safe, ungendered, generalist subjects in; unruly, dangerous feminist subjects out.
Paradoxically, at the very moment that management was plotting the demise of ‘my’ feminist legal studies subjects, I was invited to speak in at a philosophy symposium, ‘Making Sense of Contemporary Trends: A Postmodern Discussion’, at Northeastern Illinois University in Chicago. In April 1997, just a month before I received the death-knell fax signalling management’s coup back home, I delivered my paper, ‘Legal Studies and Postmodernism — Sex, Crime and Violence’ at the symposium. The North American organisers had asked me to focus on how postmodern theories impacted on my teaching of legal studies in Australia. Little did I know then that some of what I had to say would end up three years later in this article about the demise of socio-legal education at the yellow brick university.
I began by telling the symposium that in my feminist legal studies teaching, I utilise postmodern theories to politicise speaking positions. I teach my students that postmodern or poststructuralist theories, as I prefer to call them, enrich critical approaches to social science and legal knowledges by demolishing self-congratulatory ruses of power deployed by authorised knowers who are above interrogating their own foundational premises. Such knowers abound in legal and criminological studies. Witness the Baboon pontificating about the appropriate level of generality in a ‘balanced’ legal studies curriculum, without the slightest comprehension that his idea of generality might be my idea of stupifying mediocrity. At the Chicago symposium, I spoke most about my large first semester subject, SVC, an avowedly counter-hegemonic, foucauldian feminist anti-criminology subject which focuses on the significant social problem of men’s pervasive violence against women and children. While SVC concentrates on the notable failure of a wide range of criminological theories to confront the issue of men’s responsibility for their own violence, it is, in my view, a necessary prerequisite to a critical approach to criminal law. Certainly, in my experience, students struggle to understand critiques of criminal law if they have not been introduced to theoretical interrogations of the relationship between sex and violence. But pausing here, how is it possible for a poststructuralist theorist to talk about such universalising, essentialising categories as men, women and children? Where are diversity, plurality and contingency, hallmarks of the postmodern condition, here? In SVC, students are asked to be the judge, but they are provided with numerous comparative studies demonstrating that postructuralist theories bring a political and ethical depth to the question of men’s violence which is unimaginable within any criminological paradigm.
Cutting a long story short, SVC is an extended argument, supported by a great deal of evidence, that violence is profoundly sexed, notwithstanding the best efforts of criminological, legal and media texts to ignore this fact. More broadly, the subject explores the violence of representational practices, including those of hegemonic feminisms. The speaking positions of all dominant groups are problematised in SVC, including those of white anglo feminists who make universalising, homogenous claims on behalf of all women victims of men’s violence and ground their claims on a purportedly universal women’s experience. The trick is to constantly interrogate your own speaking position even as you challenge others. If students find this frustrating, they are reminded of Bauman’s lyrical description of postmodernity as ‘a re-enchantment of the world’ that modernity with its ‘meaning-legislating reason’ had ‘tried so hard to dis-enchant’. And Foucault is always on hand to refresh their memories of the pleasures of unpacking games of truth played out in hegemonic discourses, even if he sometimes forgets to check his own.
As for what to do about men’s pervasive violence, I advise that solutions will be provided in the second-semester subject, Sex, Crime and Law (SCL). Most students don’t realise that this is a ploy to get them to enrol. They have not yet read Spivak’s depiction of poststructuralist theory as a ‘radical acceptance of vulnerability’ and as a striving to ‘know the limits of narratives, rather than establish narratives as solutions for the future, for the arrival of social justice’. The last time I taught SCL, in 1996, we started with two decades of feminist law reform efforts in the field of sexed violence, concentrating on sexual assault, domestic violence and marital homicide. Countless feminist critiques of law reforms in all these areas in all western jurisidictions highlight the failure to limit the violence or improve the juridical status of victims. Clearly something is wrong with law reform as a feminist strategy. An important, connecting theme is that of the violence of law as elaborated by Derrida, Drucilla Cornell, Robert Cover and a host of Foucauldian and Derridean feminist critiques of law, including Carol Smart’s now classic analysis of ‘the woman of legal discourse’, a figure saturated with sexuality, notwithstanding all of law’s grandstanding efforts to proclaim gender neutrality in all its hallowed operations. At the same time, SCL persists with SVC’s double move of exposing the violence of masculinist hegemony while simultaneously unravelling the heterosexist, ethnocentric and class biases of dominant feminisms. For this task we need queer theorists like Judith Butler and ethnic minority feminists, women of colour, Third World women and postcolonial critics — Sneja Gunew, bell hooks, Gloria Anzaldua, Linda Alcoff, Chandra Mohanty, Sherene Razack and Spivak to name a few.
But how is it possible for SCL to have come this far: to have moved from criminology and sexed crime through to the politics of speaking positions, on to the violence of law, further on to queer interrogations of heterosexism, and finally to postcolonial, Third World and other anti-racist feminist problematisations of white western feminism? Why, through the enchanted forests of postmodernity, that’s how. Anyway, that’s more or less the drift of the paper I presented at the philosophy symposium in Chicago in April 1997.
Meanwhile back home, Legal Studies: Sex, Violence and Crime was being replaced by Legal Studies: Crime and Society. The Handbook subject description was to stay the same but Sex and Violence were to be erased from the title of a subject focusing on sexed violence and replaced with the far less intimidating ‘Society’. With the support of the National and Tertiary Academic Union, I got the Sex back into the title fairly quickly. It took longer and required the assistance of the University Equal Opportunity Committee to get Sex and Crime recoupled with Violence in the subject title. It was finally renamed ‘Crime, Sex and Violence’. Be afraid, be very afraid — sex and violence are back with their partner in crime, nailing men, the perpetrators of most forms of sexed crime, with responsibility for their own violence.
As for SVC’s sequel, Legal Studies: Sex, Crime and Law (SCL), it was last taught in 1996. A two year fight to have SCL converted to a law elective — the happy, uncontested fate of the positivistic criminological legal studies options — finally ended in approval for a new subject called, innocuously, ‘Current Issues in Criminal Law’. My proposed title, ‘Sex, Violence and Criminal Law’, was rejected. So was my subject description. I had envisaged a subject exploring a range of critical approaches to emergent sex/gender questions in criminal law, including for example the development of the ‘culture defence’, ‘battered woman syndrome’ and the ‘homosexual advance defence’. More, I wanted the subject description to include a reference to conceptualisations of the criminal law as a racially inscribed technology of gender and sexuality. I envisaged the aim of the subject as an examination of the role played by culture, ethnicity and race in legal translations of sexual and domestic violence. That examination, I suggested, should be informed by critical legal scholarship, including critical legal studies, critical race theory, feminist and poststructuralist theories all of which contribute to an understanding of the processes through which the criminal law sexualises and racialises its subjects. In short, I proposed a theoretically rigorous subject attuned to current feminist and anti-racist debates about the violence of law and the limitations of criminal law reform as a feminist strategy against various forms of men’s violence.
In the subject approved by management, all references to theory, feminism and violence were excised. I conceded, just to get it through, but even then I had to prove that I understood the distinction between a criminology and a criminal law elective. The message was clear: social science perspectives were not to impact on the law program. The subject description was altered quite dramatically in order, I suppose, to bring it down to the appropriate level of numbingly dull generality. According to its Handbook entry, Current Issues in Criminal Law (LAWCIC) is ‘an opportunity to explore in depth current issues in criminal law doctrine and reform’. A range of unspecified ‘critical approaches to law and law reform in the field of sexed crime’ would be introduced, but sexed crime, critical legal scholarship and feminist and anti-racist debates had all been submerged in a tide of law reports, case law and, wait for it, ‘scholarly literature in the field’. You can’t get much more bland and banal than that.
Well, was it worth it? Was it worth over two years of petitioning, lobbying and compromise to get SCL taught as a law elective, only to end up with such a dreary, generalist, doctrinally orientated subject? To see all manner of critical theories excised from the new elective? To witness sex, violence and law disappearing into the ether? To hear from students that they were discouraged from enrolling even in the dumbed-down, carefully monitored version of SCL known as LAWCIC? Just so I could use it as a case study of the demise of critical socio-legal studies at the yellow brick university? The jury is still out on that one.
I taught LAWCIC for the first (and last) time in 2000 under the watchful eyes of management’s surveillance team. I was warned from the outset that my hold on the subject was precarious. Continuous teaching of the subject depended on management satisfaction and ‘student’ approval (as determined by management, of course). To this end, the subject content and reading materials were duly monitored. A memo from management noted that there was too much emphasis on ‘secondary’ (read: critical socio-legal) readings. Heaven forbid that such ‘secondary’ material impact on the teaching of a law elective at the yellow brick university. The deconstruction of the primaeval distinction between primary and secondary material effected across all social science disciplines in the last quarter of the 20th century had somehow passed this Baboon by. Law electives had to be generalist, dull and doctrinally orientated. The more black letter the law the better. Never mind that the law program had a mandate to provide ‘an interdisciplinary study of law in its social context, combining and integrating law with the perspectives and intellectual skills of the social sciences’. That at least was the view taken by the body which had approved this new law degree. As Margaret Thornton recently reminded University Council, there are ‘legal and moral obligations to be met with respect of the orientation of La Trobe University’s law program’. These obligations do not appear to have a ghost’s chance of being met. Indeed, according to Thornton, La Trobe University’s efforts to ‘excise socio-legal scholars and their scholarship from the School of Law and Legal Studies in favour of a bland and unreflexive doctrinalism can only serve to facilitate the implementation of the mooted regressive political agenda’. She refers here to rumours that Australian universities are about to be bifurcated into research and teaching-only institutions. Her concern is that La Trobe will be relegated to the latter category, largely as a direct consequence of management decisions to wrest La Trobe’s law degree away from its socio-legal origins in what was once an internationally renowned Department of Legal Studies.
Oh no, I have blown the cover of my yellow-brick university. Fortunately, I probably won’t have to bear any consequences for suggesting that the Australian cousin of the Lyotard and Rogozinski Baboon has taken up residence at the Faculty of Law and Management at La Trobe University and is bent on reorientating legal education along narrow doctrinal and commercial lines. No disciplinary action for me for declaring that other knowledges — tragically, even those derived from the Law School’s own origins in socio-legal studies as well as those forged by postcolonial, poststructuralist and anti-race feminisms — are being excised from the curriculum. I’m veering off the yellow brick road before the thought police nab me. Farewell Wizard. Goodbye Dorothy, Tinman, Strawman and Lion. It may be, Dorothy, that there’s no place like home, but adapting Bernice Johnson Reagon’s brilliant critique of barred-door, anti-coalition, anti-visionary political formations, home don’t feel like home no more down at the yellow brick university.
(With thanks to all levels of management at La Trobe University for making an overseas appointment seem so attractive at this uncritical moment in higher education in Australia.)
[*] Adrian Howe teaches at a yellow brick university
 Lyotard, J.F. and Rogozinski, J., ‘The Thought Police’, (1987) 26 Art and Text 24 (their emphasis). Lyotard and Rogozinski use the figure of the Baboon, borrowed from Sartre, to stand for anti-poststructuralist polemicists in France in the 1980s. Their Baboon sought to censor post-‘68 theories it couldn’t begin to understand, theories predicated on the necessity of ‘hearing differently, of listening to other Ideas … of lending an ear to that which cannot be heard’, at p.31 (their emphasis).
 Lyotard and Rogozinski, ref 1, above, p.29.
 Thornton, M., ‘Technocentrism in the law school: Why the Gender and Colour of Law Remain the Same’, (1998) 36 Osgoode Hall Law Journal 369, 372–3.
 Thornton, ref 3, above, pp.381and 388–9.
 Letter to Staff attached to copy of ‘Speech at launch of Julius Stone Institute of Jurisprudence’, University of Sydney, 14 August 1999.
 Duncanson, I., ‘The Ends of Legal Studies’, (1997) 3 Journal of Current Legal Issues <<http:webjcli.ncl.ac.uk/1997/issue3/duncan3.html>>.
 Morris, M., ‘Losing our Minds’, Weekend Australian 22–23 July 2000, p.19.
 Morris, ref. 7, above, p.22.
 Yet another parody of Foucault’s play on Beckett’s ‘what matter who’s speaking’. See Howe, A., Punish and Critique: Towards a Feminist Analysis of Penality, Routledge, 1994, pp.84–5.
 Ian Duncanson, Chris Tomlins and Diane Kirkby deserve most of the credit.
 Barnes, J., ‘Cite Seeing: Citation in Legal Writing (review essay)’, (1998) 16 Law in Context 144.
 Raoul Mortley, Report to Faculty of Law and Management at La Trobe University, 13 July 2000.
 Morrison, S., LAWCIC Research Essay, 2000 (cited with permission).
 La Trobe University Course Handbook 1995, p.546.
 La Trobe University Course Handbook 2000, p.259 (Morrison’s emphasis).
 A few years ago, a retiring male academic commented to a feminist colleague at a northern Australian university that a feminist history subject could be taught by any ‘drover’s dog’. Since then, my informant and I correspond under the code names ‘drover’s dog of the north’ and ‘drover’s dog of the south’, abbreviated to ‘ddn’ and ‘dds’, or sometimes simply to ‘woof’.
 Lyotard and Rogozinski, ref. 1, above, p.29.
 Management letter to A. Howe, 13 June 1997.
 Bauman, Z., Intimations of Postmodernity, Routledge, 1992, p.x (his emphasis).
 Spivak, G., ‘The Postmodern Condition: The End of Politics?’, in S. Harasym (ed.) The Post-colonial Critic, Routledge, pp.18–9.
 Smart, C., ‘The Woman of Legal Discourse’, (1992) 1 Social and Legal Studies 29.
 Professorial Report to Council: Second Quinquennial Report, 1995–2000.
 Johnson Reagon, B., ‘Coalition Politics: Turning the Century’ in B. Smith (ed.) Home Girls: A Black Feminist Anthology, Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press, New York, 1983, p.359.
 Adrian Howe has been appointed to a Chair in Criminology at the University of Central Lancashire, UK.